


I Wanna Hold Your Hand

by skillzyo



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 21:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19326382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skillzyo/pseuds/skillzyo
Summary: "This was supposed to be for fun, Santana.""Okay, but it sounds like you have been having fun.""I wasn't actually supposed to go on more than one date!""I thought you weren't calling them that?"-----Or, the one where Santana signs Quinn up for an online dating site, and neither of them are prepared for one Brittany S. Pierce to enter their lives.





	I Wanna Hold Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little thing I wrote for someone a few years ago on tumblr, but never cross-posted. I remembered I liked it though, so I wanted to share it here.

When Santana signed Quinn up for an online dating site—“You need to get laid quick, Fabray, ‘cause I’m tired of living with Bitchzilla,” had been her exact words—neither one of them had expected one Brittany S. Pierce to come barreling into their lives. It had started with a normal enough request to meet up a couple days after Quinn’s profile had been created and, after skimming through some of Brittany’s posted pictures, a thorough background check, and some facebook stalking on Santana’s part, Quinn responded to the message. Two days later, Brittany waltzed into her life at a coffee bar and bookstore hybrid.

From the moment she sat down, Quinn could tell that being still was not her strongest trait—she fidgeted with nearly everything she could get her hands on and her leg constantly bounced beneath the table—but not once did her attention stray from Quinn. The next thing Quinn noticed was her coffee order, which was something far too sweet with extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top to make it worse. At one point, Brittany wound up with a dollop of whipped cream on the tip of her nose, and Quinn couldn’t remember the last time she'd laughed so hard. Then, with the pad of her thumb, she swiped the cream off of Brittany’s nose and, taking a note from some questionable romance novels she had read, licked it off her finger.

Brittany nearly dropped her coffee cup.

Their second outing had been a trip to the roller-rink. Brittany had chosen the venue this time, and she was already skating circles around the other skaters when Quinn arrived. As she glided effortlessly around the rink while 80’s music blared through the speakers, Quinn had the sneaking suspicion that she was showing off. Once Quinn had her skates on, Brittany came to a stop at the entrance of the rink, and offered her hand.

“I know how to roller skate,” Quinn said.

“Maybe I just wanted to hold your hand,” was Brittany’s response, accompanied by a wide smile.

Their third outing—to Santana’s annoyance, Quinn refused to call them “dates”—Quinn took Brittany to a museum. It was also the first time she saw Brittany dressed in anything other than jeans and a loose t-shirt. Instead, she wore a powder-blue blouse and dark dress pants. What really caught Quinn’s attention, however, was the black and white tie that hung from her neck. That, and the shy smile on Brittany’s face when she noticed Quinn had been staring at her. They spent the rest of the evening wandering the museum close enough together that their hands occasionally brushed and Quinn could smell the light perfume on Brittany’s skin.

Outside the museum, the two of them said their goodbyes, but Quinn’s gaze kept wandering to Brittany’s lips. To her irritation, Brittany noticed, and a knowing smirk appeared. One that Quinn wanted to wipe off her face. She twisted Brittany’s tie in her hand and tugged until Brittany’s mouth was a breath away from hers. There was the subtlest of nods, and Quinn pulled her into their first kiss. When they broke apart, Brittany’s bright eyes were twinkling. That was the moment Quinn Fabray realized she was in trouble.

The afternoon before their fourth outing, Quinn paced in front of the living room couch while Santana tried to watch some sort of reality television show.

“This was just supposed to be for fun, Santana.”

“Okay, but it sounds like you  _have_  been having fun.”

“I wasn’t actually supposed to go on more than one date.”

“I thought you weren’t calling them that?”

“Outing. Date. Whatever. The point is, there wasn’t supposed to be more than one, and now we’re on our fourth.”

“Hey, no one made you say yes.”

“I’m aware.”

“Good. Now stop blocking the TV and go mope about the fact that I scored you a hottie somewhere else. If only everyone were lucky enough to suffer through something like that.”

A knock at the door startled them both out of the discussion.

“So  _that’s_ why you’re nervous. She’s actually picking you up today.”

“Quiet, Santana.”

Quinn took a moment to smooth imaginary wrinkles out of her sundress, then put on an air of confidence and opened the door. Brittany greeted her with a tiny wave of her hand, which was confined by a splint.

“So I’m guessing the batting cages are off the table?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to hitting some balls around.”

Santana snorted from her spot on the couch and Quinn glared at her over her shoulder before she turned back to Brittany.

“It’s fine. We’ll go another time.”

Brittany rubbed the back of her head with her good hand.

“Do you think we could still hang out here? I know we don’t normally do house visits, but I missed you this week.”

So instead of the batting cages, their fourth date ended up being movie night with Santana. Brittany sat in the middle of the couch and Quinn made sure to sit on her uninjured side so Brittany could still hold her hand. Between movies, Brittany explained to a curious Santana—because Quinn was too chicken-shit to ask—how she fractured her wrist.

“I fell off the roof trying to catch my cat. He may be kinda hefty, but he’s quick like the wind.”

Santana’s eyes widened.

“Holy shit…”

Meanwhile, Quinn was still trying to process the fact Brittany had fallen off a roof. She had fallen off a roof and survived with only a broken wrist. She had fallen off a roof and hadn’t bothered to let Quinn know.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“It was a low roof that just hangs over the front door so it wasn’t a big deal or anything. Plus, there have been a  _lot_  of painkillers involved the last couple days, so I was really out of it.”

When they started the next movie, however, Brittany slid her good arm over Quinn’s shoulders and, when Santana wasn’t looking, placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Then Quinn “Don’t Touch Me” Fabray settled in closer to Brittany’s body, and rested her head on her shoulder as they watched the next movie.

She was definitely in trouble.

Their fifth “date” ended up being the trip to the hospital to get Brittany’s splint removed so she could get a bright pink cast put on. Quinn was the first to sign it in silver Sharpie. Santana was the second later that afternoon.

Quinn stopped counting the dates after the hospital visit. Instead, she counted the days in between her visits with Brittany. As the number of days between dates dwindled, Quinn’s anxiety rose. Somehow she had let herself get too close to Brittany. She had let her become too important. This hadn’t been part of her plan.

Gradually, she forced the number of days between dates to grow again rather than shrink. And every time a date ended, Brittany would look at her with sad eyes, knowing it would be an even longer wait each time. As hard as Quinn tried to push her away, though, the breakup text Quinn spent every day dreading never came. Instead, she got Santana confronting her one evening after dinner.  

“You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“You’re pushing her away, Quinn!”

She flinched when Santana used her first name. It was never a good sign.

“I’m not. I’ve just been… busy.”

“Binge-watching  _Grey’s Anatomy_  on Netflix does not count as busy, and you know it.”

Okay, that stung.

“Do you know how many texts I’ve gotten from Brittany the last two weeks? At least fifteen.”

“She’s been texting you?”

“Yes! Because she thinks she did something wrong and she’s afraid if she asks you, she’ll just make it worse. I swear, you are like the densest person on the planet sometimes. I know you’re afraid she might leave you, and I get it. You’re trying to make things hurt less. But shit, Fabray. You keep this up and she  _will_  leave you and you’ll both hurt anyway.”

Quinn bit her lip. Santana certainly wasn’t wrong, and she must have realized Quinn knew it because she continued with her rant.

“She thinks that’s what you want, you know. That you’re tired of her being around and you’re just trying to find a way to end it.”

“Well it’s not!”

Santana tilted her head.

“Am I really the one you should be telling that?”

And so Quinn ended up on Brittany’s front porch that night, grateful for the low-hanging roof above it as the rain poured down around her. She knocked three times before Brittany answered, clad only in shorts and a white tank-top. Behind her, a large grey cat lay on the floor.

“Quinn?”

“I’m sorry.”

They had always been the hardest words for her to say, but for once they came easily. Brittany’s brow furrowed.

“For what?”

“For pushing you away. For freezing you out. For not spending more time with you the last two weeks. All of it.”

Brittany shifted her weight and looked down at the ground.

“Is this the part where you tell me I’m a great girl, but you’re not sure we’re right for one another?”

“No! Brittany, I wouldn’t apologize just so I could break up with you.”

Brittany shrugged.

“Some people do.”

“Well I’m not. I just… the time we’ve been together has been amazing and I always feel so good when I’m with you.  _You_  make me feel good. And that scares me.”

“It does?”

“Terrifies me, actually.”

Brittany stepped out of the doorway to join Quinn on the front porch. Gentle as always, she placed two fingers under Quinn’s chin and guided her into a soft kiss. Rained pounded on the roof above them and the cool breeze raised the hair on Quinn’s arms, but the kiss warmed her from the inside out. After they broke apart, Quinn rested her forehead on Brittany’s chest. Brittany wrapped her arms around her and held Quinn in a tight hug.

“Can you maybe tell me the next time you get scared? Because I was scared, too.”

“I promise I’ll tell you next time, though I think I should be okay for a while now.”

“Good.”

They stood on the porch a few minutes longer, enjoying the sound of the rain echoing against the roof and the light spray of a few droplets that managed to blow under it. Then Brittany invited her inside to meet her cat, Lord Tubbington II, who lived up to his name and every story Brittany told about him.

Later that night, as Quinn sat curled up against Brittany’s side on the couch, a blanket over the both of them, her phone buzzed. She slid it out of her pocket and her screen lit up with a text from Santana.

_Next time I have to help you fix your relationship problems, I’m charging._


End file.
